Tuesday, April 23, 2013

Afro inspections in the age of terror…

Hey y’all, I managed to get through airport security without
having TSA demand to search my Afro for whateverthefuck…

…and the fact that I took note of not having someone treat
my hair like some exotic contraption in need of thorough public inspection got
this bitch thinking.

Let’s jump right on in, shall we?

Last Monday my sister began a trip that was supposed to end
in Boston. At the airport she
encountered a TSA agent who told her that they were going to have to inspect
her Afro.

Pause…allow the incredible affront of that shit to
marinate…continue.

Since my sister was traveling for business, she went to that
calm detached place women of color know all too well…and endured a rubber glove
wearing TSA agent searching through her Afro as if black women’s natural hair
is some unmarked package left sitting unattended for over 15 minutes in the
gate lounge.

I found out about the Afro search via text, and I
immediately felt concern over the humiliation, anger, and frustration my sister
had just endured.

I also thought about a recent flight where a group of blue
haired white women of a certain age went through security before me. I remember them because they had huge
hair…1980’s soap opera hair…hair teased to within an inch of its life and then
sprayed as if hairspray is life support in a can.

At the time, I thought their hair looked like cotton
candy…and I enjoyed seeing them in their big hair clique as they teased and
talked loud and easily moved through the security check.

But now…after hearing about my sister’s treatment at the
airport…I couldn’t stop wondering why the hell those women didn’t have some TSA
agent dig into their hair.

Hell, you could have hidden a small child in that shit!

I checked in on my sister but then became distracted by
breaking news on Twitter.

There had been an explosion in Boston…and then another.

My sister was en route to Boston, so I quickly sent her word
of the breaking news and asked her to check with security in Chicago. And it didn’t escape me that I was
asking my sister to reach out to airport security as a resource less than an
hour after they treated her like a freak.

C-Money’s flight was cancelled and she returned home to
decompress from a tense day of travel coupled with knowing that some sort of
terrorist incident was going down in a city we both called home during our
college years.

It’s hard to see a place I spent years enjoying and
exploring deal with violent death, bombs, and an armed lock down…just as it is
hard to imagine the heartache of those who lost someone dear or the pain for
those who struggle to recover.

I can’t even comprehend what it would be like to have my
face and name go viral for some shit I didn’t do.

Now, tis true that having some asshole at airport security
indulge in a public display of racial intolerance is a far cry from having
major newspapers and a gaggle of wanna-be online investigators erroneously
convict you via article and post of a horrific act of violence.

But I can’t help but think that these things feed into each
other. The notion that people of
color are fair game for false accusations and humiliating scrutiny…the commonly
held belief that all that this is okay and we shouldn’t complain if we didn’t
do anything wrong…the big fucking lie that an apology washes it all away.

Several people were physically assaulted after the
bombings…many others were threatened and taunted.

I guess I should be glad that my sister wasn’t held under
suspicion of flying to Boston while black…just like I’m pretty sure I’m
expected to feel relief because I made it through security at the same damned
airport without having someone demand a public fingering of my Afro. Are they just inconsistent or does my sister have a more militant 'fro?

Anyhoo, I’m stuck on angry disgusted that folk are physically
inspecting black women’s hair or patching together bullshit to accuse innocent
people of color of shit they didn’t do…while other briefly inspected folk are
putting together motherfucking bombs.

They pat my hair down sometimes, but not every time. I have to get the full pat down because of the wheelchair. And I hate it. But worse than I hate it for me I hate how they pat down and how they treat frail elderly people.

I won a bet that your tired ass would follow up that bs comment I deleted with that text book "You're scared to publish my comment!" mess. Because your trifling my local Planned Parenthood is getting a donation.

Thanks.

Oh and the benefit of being a professional activist is knowing who is worthy of debate versus who is trying to take over the discussion to derail change.

I had my locs patted by TSA for the first time ever a few months ago at SFO. It's ridiculous and I don't even have "big" hair. Also ridiculous because it is clearly not a TSA protocol seeing as I've spent a lot of time in airports in the last few 5 years and had locs or an afro the entire time. Blah

As a person of Italian extraction, I've noticed that many debates around hair are similar to those in the black community- namely, whether to let it flow free ('fro free?) or clip it, snip it, and straighten it. I am firmly in favor of letting people wear their natural hair, whatever color they are. Stereotyping those with locks is some bullshit.

And as a disabled person... yeah, the pat-downs are offensive. But lately I'm so starved for ahem, attention of a certain kind, love in the oven, etc. that I remember hoping that my patting-down officer would at least be cute. Sigh. Good Lord.

Thank you +Pamela Merritt for writing this post, and thanks to everyone who shared their experiences in the comments. This has been very informative for me. I was unaware of this problem and am glad to have my eyes a little more open now. Thank you.

This post struck me and made me smile. "hidden a small child" haha. I am male, but have long brown curly brown hair that I usually have held back with a hairband... and it's poofy like a big curly afro... and EVERY time the TSA pulls me out to pat it down. So annoying.